


Why?

by Ceewelsh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceewelsh/pseuds/Ceewelsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of John thinking he was dead, Sherlock came back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why?

"Sherlock..." John faultered, unable to comprehend what he saw in front of him. It couldn't be... Sherlock was long dead, but...John would recognise those cheek bones anywhere. His coat looked a little worn and Sherlock was a little older.

"Am I...? Are you...? This must be a trick, right? You're...Sherlock you DIED. You were dead, I saw you. I..." John choked. "I was there." he continued in a hoarse whisper.

"John, what exactly would you like me to say?" Sherlock asked in a quiet, calm, SHERLOCK voice and as pissed off as John was, he had missed this. He had really, really missed this.

"Oh, I don't know, try ANYTHING! How about what the hell you're playing at! You... Oh God... You died and left me, left Mrs. Hudson and me to try and piece our lives back together. You left me, Sherlock and I had to try and move on not only without you, but with journalists banging the door down trying to find out if I was in on it all or not. Grief, they said it was when I told them you were innocent. I never once doubted you. For months I was convinced you'd walk back through that doo, deer stalker on, complaining Mycroft had forced it on you. You'd say that you had a case and before I said anything, you'd tell me to shut up so you could think. I believed. I hoped for that one last miracle, but it never came. Twelve months, Sherlock. The memory is still vivid. Whenever I close my eyes I see it and I wake up and remember that it's NOT a bad dream, it's true; it's reality." John took a deep breath in and steadied himself on a chair. Sherlock still hadn't moved, but John thought he had seen the changes loud and clear within his eyes.

"You didn't move." Sherlock stated in a level tone.

"No, well, I tried-"

"You didn't come back here until ten months ago. In that time, you've tried to move my things twenty three times. Twelve of those without Mrs. Hudson. You've interviewed thirty potentials to buy the flat from you, and eight potential flatmates."

"Sherlock." John's voice was thick and Sherlock's voice was getting low and hoarse.

"But you rejected all of them. You never once touched my skull. You-"

"Sherlock, please."

"-didn't leave this flat once for three weeks when you first came back and it was Lestrade who finally got you out. And you never once, not for a second, thought I was a fraud...why was that? What reasoning could you possibly have?" Sherlock turned to John, eyes blazing.

"Sherlock, why are you doing this?" John asked. He was trying to keep himself together, but failing miserably. ""And why now? Why wait twelve sodding months?" Sherlock just pulled John's head towards his own and pressed their foreheads together.

"Hush, no, hush. Got to think." When John tried to move, Sherlock held his head in place.

"Sherlock, please, people will talk." John tried, half heartedly, his voice and knees weak.

 

At that moment, just as John had the wild thought that Sherlock might actually do something so extremely human... Mrs Hudson walked in the door.

"John, dear, I got those biscuits you w--" She looked up and saw Sherlock, who was straightening up slightly.

 

And she screamed.


End file.
